Don The Suit
by Maelstrom
Summary: Written a while back, but just realized I hadn't posted it up here. The original Batman gives Batman Beyond a challenge and warning all in one.


Hey all! This goes out in answer to Roytoy's Batman Beyond challenge, and would  
probably never have been written if (a) Roytoy hadn't plopped a whole lot of support onto  
my lap, and (b) if I hadn't read Brickgirl's Batman Beyond fic. Thank you to you both! :)   
  
This may or may not be the only BB fic I'll write, depending. :) I'm pretty sure there'll be  
more, though, but it's too soon to tell. ;)   
  
__________________________   
  
This piece was inspired by "Always A Hero" by Brickgirl. All kudos is partly due to that  
well-written story, which can be read at http://www.batmanbeyond.net. Many thanks to  
Brickgirl for giving the okay on this one. :)   
  
  
  
Don The Suit   
by Maelstrom   
  
  
I look into your eyes and I see your overconfidence. I see the cocky look you give your  
enemies, the careless I-can-defeat-you-with-a-flip smile, because you know that the suit  
will protect you from harm. Because you know that the suit will shield your flesh, will  
flow like silk, will let you fly. It is your second skin, it is your wings. You know all that  
and you are smug. You are brash. You know that no one can hurt you, not unless I push  
the button that deactivates your armor, and you know I will not do that.   
  
I have only done it once, when you'd first worn the suit. I was angry that you'd taken it  
from me. Wrath coursed through my veins and threatened to seize my fragile-with-age  
heart. You had no right to don the suit. No right.   
  
You thought that it was because you'd broken into my home, into my hideout and stolen  
the black-knight armor, that I was so angry. You thought that was why I was willing to let  
you die. True, a good deal of pride was involved -- I had neglected the security alarms in  
my old age, and I'd thought that the times when young vigilante-wannabes would enter the  
cave and discover my identity were long over. Evidently it is a curse I am stuck with for  
good.   
  
But my fury was also due to the fact that you'd donned the suit. You'd *donned the suit.*  
Without any prior experience or training. Without any permission or warning. You just  
took it out of the case and put it on without a second thought. That made you Batman in  
your eyes.   
  
Wrong. *I* am the Batman. Nobody else.   
  
What right did you have to assume that you could safely take on the mantle? What made  
you think that it was so easy to wear a costume, fight crime, and come home to bed every  
night? There have been those before you, McGinnis, who had worked and trained and  
fought hard to *earn* the role of hero, of savior. They did whatever it took to gain  
approval that yes, they were capable of patrolling Gotham, and yes, they were worthy.   
  
You did none of that.   
  
You waltzed in and discovered my identity. You admired and fiddled with my equipment.  
You returned demanding vengeance for your father. You stole the suit.   
  
You stole the suit.   
  
That suit represents more than just a costume. It is the symbol of justice and order in this  
corrupt society. It is the object that strikes fear in every criminal's heart.   
  
It is the product of the Dark Knight's evolution, born at his parents' death, eternal  
immortal. It has metamorphised over the years, but it has not changed. It has witnessed  
the deaths of many Robins, in more ways than one. It has acknowledged the existence of  
newer flocks in its midst, it fought alongside those newcomers, and it nodded in approval.  
It witnessed my own death as Batman when I was broken -- it could not save me then. It  
was assumed by another as I sought to find myself, to heal outer and inner wounds. Its  
substitute was my very first charge, the son I'd never had and never will have. It was a role  
he'd grown to resent, but agreed to assume until I'd released my demons.   
  
I did unleash some demons, but not all. They would not leave me alone. I died as Batman  
again, and will never return.   
  
That suit is my identity.   
  
Was my identity.   
  
And you have taken that away from me.   
  
You have confidence. You have determination. You have fire. But they will easily be  
quenched with time, when you find that this is not the life you are willing to lead. That this  
is not how you want to spend your weekends and your nights, that there has to be  
something else out there besides crimefighting.   
  
Others have led this life. Some still do. We knew the sacrifice we were making. Do you?   
  
The police have limited power. There will be no one else but us to maintain safety and  
justice in this city. Are you willing to dedicate yourself to a lifetime of that? A lifetime of  
watching over people, of stalking and patrolling the dark because no one else will, and if  
you stop for even a night havoc will erupt and consume the fragile line of piece in this city.   
  
Are you willing to accept that?   
  
If every person who'd had his or her father killed could so easily assume the suit, the world  
would be swarming with vigilantes by now. I allowed you to remain because I finally had  
to face my limitations. Youth was not on my side. There had to be someone else to take  
up the mantle, to resume the work that I'd carried out for so long, to don the suit and face  
the enemy, to contend with the demons that still rage within the spirit of the armor.   
  
You think you are up to that, McGinnis?   
  
  
  
  
End   
  
  
Maelstrom   
  
teentorque@hotmail.com 


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